


Just Like Always Before

by Neila_Nuruodo



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol as a Coping Mechanism, Alcohol is not a coping mechanism kids, Discussion of Major Character Death, Enemies to Lovers, Frottage, Heavy Angst, M/M, Not that they aren't still kinda enemies but now they're BOTH, Patch 5.2: Echoes of a Fallen Star Spoilers, Some comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:27:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25074601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neila_Nuruodo/pseuds/Neila_Nuruodo
Summary: Tell me how much you miss my warmth (no more)Tell me how my kiss can change your world (no more)Tell me how much it hurts to be alone (no more)Lie to me that you love me with all your heartNo moreAfter Elidibus's harsh truths in Rak'tika, after revelations and visions and visitations in the night, the Warrior of Light is at the end of his rope.  Elidibus happens upon him as he tries to drown his sorrow in drink, but the loose lips of a drunkard spill truths even the Ascian did not expect to hear.
Relationships: Elidibus/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 47





	1. Chapter 1

“Hiroshi…”

The bartender is visibly torn, reticence painting every slow movement, each pause and hesitation as he takes the cup.

“Fill ‘er up,” slurs the Warrior of Darkness, and the poor man flinches as a gauntleted fist pounds the bar.

“Not a good idea, my friend. You’ve had plenty this eve.”

A bitter laugh twists in the air. “I c’n still feel. Means it ain’t enough.”

With a deep sigh Glynard turns to his stock, cup in hand. Tense shoulders hide his practiced movements as he waters the wine carefully, gauging his patron’s sharp eye against his intoxicated state. He slides the glass over the counter to lightly bump against the fist still resting on it. When the cup is seized, inspected, and sampled with no sign of suspicion he does not let his relief show. Leaning across the bar, he lowers his voice.

“Cyella…”

“What do you want me to do?” she hisses back. “I tried talking to him. He’s in no fit mood to listen. He’s gotta pass out soon.”

“You said that an _hour_ ago.”

The elven woman blows out a sigh. “And well I know it. How was I to know his constitution was so bloody robust? Look, it’s not like I can haul him off. It would take three or four guards to do it, even as drunk as he is now. You don’t want that kind of fuss.”

“No,” comes the slow response, accompanied by a pained expression. “No, that I sure don’t. Maybe one of his friends could talk some sense into him. If any of them are up at this hour…” He rubs his face.

“Maybe,” Cyella agrees dubiously. “I can rustle around their usual haunts, see what turns up.”

“Please.” Glynard falls maybe a hair shy of begging, and when Cyella straightens and strides off, he releases a deep sigh. He watches her until she disappears from sight. Another drink is prepared and tendered to his patron, and for a moment he studies the poor man.

Bright blue eyes are dull with drink and some unspoken pain, the whites bloodshot. Hiroshi leans his head on one hand, elbow braced on the bar, and every emotion that strikes him is writ immediately upon his face. Dark humor is chased by pain, then fury, all swallowed by despair until the cycle begins again. The hilt of a massive two-hander protrudes over one shoulder, a blatant reminder of the danger should the Warrior of Darkness turn violent. Surely he wouldn’t… but he certainly doesn’t seem much like himself this day.

The bartender brightens abruptly as he notices another personage of interest passing by—this time it is the Warrior of Light, the one who lately caused such a stir during that odd collective vision. He raises a hand in a sharp wave.

“Ho, friend!”

If it is odd that Ardbert is about at this hour, he will not question it. Here, perhaps, is the salvation both he and Hiroshi need. His call catches Ardbert’s attention; quick steps slow as he turns to look. Glynard beckons urgently. For a moment the Warrior pauses, and the bartender realizes he might be about some urgent business. Indeed, why else would he be up at this late hour? But his steps turn their way, hastening once more. He comes to the bar, leaving a few seats between himself and the Warrior of Darkness.

“Is something wrong? How can I help?”

Glynard shoots a sidelong glance at Hiroshi. “Our friend here is having a rough night. He’s had enough to lay out a horse, but he doesn’t want to stop. I’m nervous about cutting him off, truth be told. I wonder if you might talk some sense into him, or at least make sure he doesn’t get mad and do something he’d regret come the morrow.”

A speculative light ignites in Ardbert’s eyes, there and gone, as he studies Hiroshi. “I see,” he murmurs. “Can’t promise anything, of course, but I’ll give it a try.”

“Thank you. I owe you big-time.”

At that Ardbert chuckles. “At least wait to see if it works, eh, friend?” With a comradely slap to his shoulder, Ardbert sidles along the bar to settle on the stool next to Hiroshi.

The Warrior of Darkness finally registers the presence, turning to see Ardbert. Blue eyes blow wide with surprise and recognition, and then narrow. For a moment they look at one another in silence. They are very much of a height; in fact, their features are so similar they could be brothers. Hiroshi’s hair might be a few shades darker and longer than Ardbert’s close-cropped brown, but beyond that the resemblance is striking.

Ardbert breaks the silence. “Are you all right?”

Hiroshi’s hand tightens concerningly on the glass, his gaze going dark, turning aside. “Not even close. But you should know all ‘bout that, huh?”

Something turns behind Ardbert’s gaze, a calculation or evaluation. “More than you realize, I think. Why don’t you call it a night?”

“Heh. You’re here, so now th’ party’s over?” He throws his glass back, draining the remains of his drink at one go.

Ardbert cannot seem to hide his amusement. “That is how this usually goes, is it not?” He watches Hiroshi give the bartender one last hopeful look. He might as well make eyes at a mountain; Glynard clearly has faith in Ardbert’s ability to keep the situation under control. No more drink will be forthcoming this evening. “Come on, friend, let’s get you back to your rooms.”

At first Hiroshi tries to push off Ardbert’s helping hands, uncoordinated and jerky strikes that hit nothing but air or his armor. After nearly falling off the stool, he finally stops, letting Ardbert wrangle one arm over his shoulders and slip the other about his waist.

“I c’n walk,” Hiroshi protests loudly, and Ardbert chuckles.

“Sure, friend. Of course you can.”

“I _can!”_

“Let’s walk together.”

The protests fade as they gain distance from the Wandering Stairs, becoming little more than petulant grumbles. Once they are alone, Hiroshi shoves clumsily at Ardbert, making them both stumble.

“‘Nough. I don’ need your help.”

As though it had never been, the facade of Ardbert is gone; the voice is now deeper, rough and resonant. “You need _someone’s_ help. You will not make it to your rooms like this.”

“I _told_ you, I c’n walk.”

In response, Elidibus stops, loosing his holds on Hiroshi. “Very well.” He watches as the man ventures his first step—still clinging to his shoulder, of course—and begins to list. He makes it three steps before collapsing against a fence. For a moment he fights drunkenly with it, struggling to right himself to no avail. Elidibus’s amused smile slowly fades, impatience taking its place. Finally he makes his way once more to Hiroshi’s side.

“Enough,” he says, voice sharp with command. “You will get nowhere like this. Accept my assistance.”

When Hiroshi raises his face to Elidibus, his eyes are wet. But he does not argue, putting his arm once more about the Ascian’s shoulders and letting him right them both.

“I’m sorry,” he weeps. “I’m so sorry.”

“You might best express that by cooperating with me. The sooner you are returned to your room, the sooner we may part ways.”

But Hiroshi shakes his head, over and over and over again. “No,” he slurs. “I mean, yes. Sorry. But I mean the others.” And Elidibus feels it as sobs wrack his chest, more of the man’s weight coming onto him as his shoulders shake.

“The others?” he prompts.

“L-lahabrea,” comes the response, and Elidibus’s step hitches. “An—and Igeyorhm, and Nabriales, all the others I barely remember.” The names are slurred but understandable. “An’, an’ Emet-Selch. Fuck!”

Hiroshi stops abruptly, pulling Elidibus to a stop as well. Surprise slaps his face as the Warrior of Darkness clings to him, burying his face against his shoulder. Slowly his arms encircle shaking shoulders, interest sharpening his expression. When he speaks, his tone is rigidly controlled. “What is it?”

“Why?” The petulance of the question is softened by genuine, bewildered pain. “I didn’t want to fight him, I didn’t, I didn’t want to hurt him at all. Why did we have to fight?” For a moment he cannot speak, silent sobs wracking him. And again, softer, “Why?”

For a moment Elidibus is perfectly still. It is broken by a sigh, followed by a soothing movement of his hands. “We live in a broken world. Nothing is right. Nothing is as it should be. Nor will it be, without more loss… more sacrifice. Until all is put to right, we will, it seems, be ever at odds.”

“He said to remember.” Hiroshi’s hands clench as he fights back another bout of sobs. “He said… but how’m I meant to do _that?_ I won’t be around but a few decades more—less at the rate I’m goin’—how’m I s’posed to make sure people get it right? _I_ barely know the first thing about you.” He straightens, tears rolling in gleaming channels down his face. “It’s what you said the other day, in the forest. A hundred years and it’s all twisted already. ‘Swhat got me all in my head, reminded me of that moment.”

With gentle insistence, Elidibus coaxes Hiroshi’s arm back over his shoulder. They begin to move again, slow shuffling steps in the direction of the Pendants.

“Twelve, I ‘member the parties, the celebrations after. I was still in shock. Everyone cheering, drinking, celebrating…” A violent shake of his head. “I tried to smile. Ended up making excuses, hiding in my room. I couldn’t stand it.” A deep breath swells his chest. “I pulled it together, at least. Put on a front. Started to move on. But every damn thing I see reminds me of him. Th’ Ocular, the Ladder, the blasted night sky itself.” His laugh breaks, jagged. “Remember,” he spits bitterly. “Not like I’ll ever forget.”

For a time there is silence. It carries them to the Pendants, to the desk where the understanding clerk issues directions to Hiroshi’s room to his companion, discreetly recognizing that the Warrior of Darkness is likely in no fit state to find his own door. The stairs are another trial, each one requiring Elidibus to help Hiroshi up, join him, and then repeat the process. At least there is a railing, but even so their progress is painfully slow. They pause at the first landing, halfway up, to recover.

“I miss him,” Hiroshi says. He is calmer now, melancholy rather than weepy. “He just attached himself to our group, you know. Just, started showing up. At first we figured he just wanted to spy on us. Wasn’t worth starting a fight over it, though. And then… it got comfortable.”

Elidibus does not reply, simply starts them moving up the next set of stairs.

“O’course, it really turned in Rak’tika, after Y’shtola got stuck in the lifestream. Dunno how we’d’ve gotten her back without his help. He really saved her.”

“He did _what?”_

The bite in Elidibus’s voice brings Hiroshi’s head around; he blinks at the Ascian owlishly. After a moment he shrugs. “Prolly just part of the plan to get close to us. She tried to use flow—well, she _did_ use flow. Just couldn’t get out after.” He shakes his head. “Never seen a thing like it. The lifestream itself, like sparkling gems overlaid on the forest.” He sighs. “He sees that all the time, huh? C’n you see it too, then?”

“Forgive me my hesitance to disclose the full of my powers to you.” Ironic humor fills the words. After a moment Elidibus shakes his head. “Emet-Selch… just what _were_ you thinking?”

At that Hiroshi bristles. “Bad luck to speak ill of the dead, y’know.”

“And whose fault would that be?” The bitter twist of Elidibus’s lip softens to a hard kind of satisfaction as Hiroshi’s head falls, hanging. The tears begin once more, pooling in misty eyes, but they have reached the second landing. They move faster now as Elidibus counts doors, opens the specified one. As they enter, he glances about, piercing gaze settling on each feature of the room, each personal touch, analyzing and cataloguing. He helps Hiroshi to the bed, assisting him to sit. For a moment he hesitates.

“You shan’t enjoy sleeping in that armor. Let me help you out of it.” The process is awkward, Hiroshi hindering nearly as much as he helps. When he hands over his weapon to Elidibus it is without thought or hesitation. The Ascian, though, does pause, looking down for a moment at the greatsword. He eventually sets it down well out of reach from the bed.

As he kneels to help Hiroshi out of his boots, the Warrior of Darkness drops a heavy hand on his shoulder. Elidibus flinches visibly, as though ducking a blow. Hiroshi does not notice.

“Twelve, Ardbert,” he whispers, choked, “you’re the best friend a man could hope for. Where would I be without you…”

For a moment Elidibus struggles with words. “Was it not you that declared so adamantly in Rak’tika that I was _not_ Ardbert?” Recollection returns to Hiroshi, visible in his expression, his sagging disappointment. The hand remains locked to Elidibus’s shoulder all the same. The Ascian shoots him a prying glance. “I have wondered how you could be so certain. I did not think you were so well acquainted with him.”

“He was here.” At Elidibus’s curious look, Hiroshi waves his hand. “This very room. His spirit. We spent hours talking this and that.”

“You could see him?” The interest bordering on eagerness filling Elidibus’s voice slides right past Hiroshi’s notice.

“See him, hear him. I was the only one.” He laughs, bitter. “Found out why, too, in the end. That’s how I knew you weren’t him.” He looks down, seems to notice his hand for the first time. After a moment’s concentration he pries his fingers loose. Freed, Elidibus comes to his feet.

“What do you mean?”

“He was me. My soul. We were…” He screws his face up. “Each other, I s’pose. That’s the only reason the wardens’ light didn’t transform me, I think. He… came home. Rejoined with me. So I knew you couldn’t be him.” He smacks his chest, but the look of self-satisfaction crumples. “Twelve, I miss him.”

Elidibus takes his shoulder, coaxes him to lie back, helps him swing clumsy legs up onto the mattress. Hiroshi settles back with a sigh, his eyes falling closed, one arm coming up to cover his eyes. For a moment Elidibus stands in perfect stillness, gazing down at him. Slowly, one hand rises, fingertips pressing lightly to his forehead. He gazes for a long moment at Hiroshi, his breath catching for a second before releasing in a shuddering sigh. Slowly the hand drops once more to his side. The fingers twitch, for a second, toward the haft of his axe, and then just as quickly away.

Hiroshi stirs, the arm lifting to show bleary and red-rimmed eyes, as Elidibus sits on the bed. His other hand gropes toward him, settling behind his back and clutching feebly, unable to pull him closer. He rolls onto his side, pressing against the Ascian’s thigh, and gives a deep shudder. For a moment Elidibus’s hand hovers over him, eventually coming to rest on his shoulder to make small, soothing circles.

“I miss him so much,” sobs Hiroshi. A sigh lifts from Elidibus. “Why did we have to fight? It weren’t right. He didn’t even want to turn on us… Why wasn’t I stronger?” His shoulders begin to hitch. “You feel it too. You have to. How could you not miss him?”

“If I did,” Elidibus says, “I would not give you that information.”

“You don’t need to.” The arm around his back tightens in a desperate clutch. “He said you were unsundered too. You must’ve known him _forever._ Of course you miss him.”

Elidibus’s jaw bunches, tension building and then releasing. He takes his axe from his back, letting the head drop down to the floor, leaning the handle against the wall next to the bed. Now divested of the weapon across his back, he shimmies down until he lies stretched on the bed next to Hiroshi. If the armor he wears discomfits either of them, there is no sign of it; Hiroshi flops partway atop it and Elidibus, the desperate embrace returning.

“What was he like? Back before the Sundering. Before everything went wrong.”

Hiroshi’s face is buried in Elidibus’s shoulder; he does not see pain twist the Ascian’s expression for a breath. He takes a deep breath, deep enough to free a knot from his chest. “He has changed little, for the most part. He has ever been prickly and dramatic. Fussy about his projects. Mayhap the loss of our people and all we knew has saddened him, dragged him into periodic despair.”

“You’d help him, right? Help him out of it?”

Elidibus’s eyes widen, returning from the distance to look at Hiroshi.

“You said you keep them on the right path, didn’t you, something like that? So you wouldn’t let him wallow in it. You’d help him through it?”

There is a moment of silence. “In essence, yes. I did what was in my power to not let him linger in despair.”

“That’s good.” Hiroshi sighs against his chest. “That’s important. Twelve know he’s been through enough.” He presses his face harder against Elidibus’s arm. “He didn’t deserve this, none of you deserved _any_ of this. You said nothing’s right in the world. Don’t think I’ve ever heard truer words.”

Elidibus leaves off the circles, letting his arm fall around Hiroshi. After a moment, he returns the embrace, his eyes sliding closed. They twitch open once more when Hiroshi speaks.

"You know what he told me, when we first met? 'A war waged without knowledge of the enemy is no war—it is mere bloodletting.' And he was right. I've killed Ascian after Ascian without troubling myself to know who or what you really were.” He shakes his head, smearing tears over his cheeks and Elidibus’s armor. “I'm a butcher. Hydaelyn's bloody headsman." 

The light in Elidibus’s eyes turns thoughtful. “‘Headsman’ implies that a judgment has been passed for the sentence to be carried out. Or do you still believe Hydaelyn has the right to determine who should live and die?”

A laugh, sharp and pained, bursts free. “I don’ know anything anymore.” There is silence for a moment; when Hiroshi speaks, his words waver between thoughtfulness and despair. “Starting to wonder if I ever did.”

After a moment Elidibus allows, “Hydaelyn has ever preferred to foster ignorance among Her children.”

“Don’t s’pose you could just tell me what path I ought to take.” The words are accompanied by a bitter laugh.

Elidibus is slow to respond. “I do not believe you would choose to walk any path I would set before you.”

Hiroshi gives a deep sigh. “S’pose you’re right.” A reflective moment. “I might s’prise you, though. Having to strike Hades down,” and with closed eyes he does not see how Elidibus’s attention snaps to razor-focus at the name, “it about killed me. Don’t think I can go through that again.” He convulses, clutches at Elidibus for a time. Eventually he slowly relaxes, his breath evening out. Silence stretches out, growing, filled with soft breaths, nothing more. After a minute Elidibus carefully moves his arm, finds Hiroshi’s grip slack. But when he moves to disentangle himself, Hiroshi bumbles back to wakefulness, clutching blindly at him once more.

“No,” he moans, almost child-like. “No, don’t go, Ardbert, please, no. I’ve missed you.”

Faint irritation mingles with something like affection, and he settles once more. When Hiroshi again falls limp, he does not slip immediately free, and if he had planned to do so later, sleep stealthily claims him first.

* * *

They wake and doze by turns as morning’s early light illuminates the room. First Hiroshi stirs, groans, rubs at aching temples. When watering eyes open, he stares in dumbfounded shock at Ardbert, blinking in disbelief. When he falls once more against his shoulder, the resignation in his actions is that of one who believes himself dreaming.

When Elidibus wakes, it is a subtle thing. Eyelids twitch, a faint line creases his brow for a moment. He breathes a hair deeper, exhales a shade longer. Finally his eyes slide open and shift to the side. They show no surprise at what he sees—Hiroshi, sprawled, face hidden from the light creeping toward them from the window. For a moment he merely continues to watch—so still and quiet he scarcely seems to breathe. The stillness is broken by a deep sigh, and he heaves himself onto his side. As though doubting whatever he saw on the eve, he again raises a hand to his face, fingers splaying as he looks at something beyond mortal sight.

This time, his reaction is contemplation rather than surprise. He gazes at Hiroshi a long while. Warmth slowly softens his expression. When his hand lowers it does not drop to the bed; he reaches out, the motion careful, to cup Hiroshi’s shoulder, to stroke it in small, gentle motions. His eyes slide closed, and his chest rises and falls in a near-silent sigh. His head droops once more toward Hiroshi’s, and the movements slowly die away as his breathing evens once more.

Slowly the sun creeps onward, spilling brightness onto Hiroshi’s face. At first he merely winces, eyes pressing tighter shut. Eventually he stirs beneath the radiance, mumbling and stretching. His efforts to pull the blanket over his face, to shield his eyes from the painful light, come to naught; Elidibus’s armored weight does not permit it to move that much. If Hiroshi realizes he could wake Elidibus, he does not opt to do so, merely shoving his face beneath the edge of the pillow. Silence grows once more to reign in the room.

It is broken by a sharp knock. Elidibus startles awake, blue eyes staring at the ceiling. A calculation takes place behind them, a measurement of the authority and determination of the knock. He sighs. It is repeated, more loudly. Swiping a hand over his face, he rolls to the bed’s edge and sits. Power spools outward from him, washing over himself and Hiroshi. Now the Warrior of Darkness appears to have Ardbert’s shorter, lighter brown hair, and his own seems to have grown out and darkened. His armor now appears to be the dark knight’s undertunic, and Hiroshi’s own tunic has changed to appear as Ardbert’s warrior attire.

Elidibus coughs, clears his throat. One last touch of magic alters his voice, and he calls out an intentionally hoarse “Coming!” Standing to his feet, he winces at the distinctive clank of armor. Another sigh, another flow of power, and his armor is teleported, along with the axe leaning so blatantly next to the bed, to the far side of the room, behind the table. This time his steps sound as they should, and the door opens under his hand.

He finds himself face-to-face with the Crystal Exarch. Affected exhaustion falls away, his gaze sharpening with recognition. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

If the Exarch notices that the Warrior of Darkness does not call him by name, he makes no comment on the matter. “If you are asking after the Crystarium at large, you may put your mind at ease. My only concern—beyond those who have decided to leave their positions without awaiting a replacement—is within this room.”

The Warrior of Darkness’s lips part, eyes going wide in understanding. His gaze turns to the bed, falling upon Ardbert’s form, still sprawled motionless upon the mattress. With a wordless gesture he steps back, inviting the Exarch to step inside. Those royal-red eyes follow his own gaze, and for a moment the Exarch stares, scrutinizing the scene before him. His staff comes lightly down to rest on the ground as he turns back.

“I but recently spoke with one Cyella, a server at the Wandering Stairs. She mentioned you had been there, drinking to some excess, last night. When she left to try and find someone who might encourage you to take your rest, it seems ‘Ardbert’ happened by and did the job for her.” The irony in his voice at that name does not miss the Warrior of Darkness; his lips compress for a moment, then turn in a wry smile. “She is, it seems, privy to more information than most citizens, as she at the least harbors suspicions, whether she realizes he is the tool of an Ascian or not. She believed you were most likely fine, as surely others would have noticed had a fight broken out, but she could not help but worry all the same.

“While I do not prefer to violate your privacy, under the circumstances I deemed it worth the while—I figured it would be simple enough to see that you had made it safely to your bed. Imagine my concern, then, upon seeing the Ascian in question in dangerously close proximity to your unconscious body.”

“Heh. Can’t blame you.” He turns to look once more at the sleeping form. “He helped me back to my room, helped me into bed. We talked, a bit. Frank stuff—you know, drunken confessions.” He sighs. “Not stuff I’m eager to repeat, but I suppose it needed to be said. Maybe even the beginnings of mending some bridges, though that remains to be seen. I can certainly see how you’d be worried, but this may just prove to be a good thing.”

“I am glad he took care of you when you needed it, at the least. He invited himself to stay after, I take it?”

The Warrior of Darkness’s lips twitch at that. The Exarch’s curiosity and concern, it seems, will not permit him to let the matter rest. “Not at all. I…” His eyes fall to the side, examining the floor with undue interest. “I would be to blame for that. In my state I confused him with Ardbert—not entirely unreasonable, you must admit, especially given my particular history—and did not permit him to leave, at least not easily.” He laughs. “Seems he fell asleep before he could escape me.” His expression grows serious once more. “I understand your concern, but I’m in no danger. We have a truce for the moment.”

The Exarch smiles. “That is a relief. I can but trust you know what you are doing. Please forgive me if I cannot help but worry until such time as you are safely away from him.”

The Warrior laughs. “It may be some time, I fear. I think we’ve got a lot to talk about, once we’re both properly awake.”

The Crystal Exarch nods, smiling still. “Then I shall leave you to it. Should you need any form of assistance, do not hesitate to ask.” He steps across the threshold, then pauses, glancing back. “And, of course, I’m sure the manager of suites would be grateful if the two of you can manage not to cause a mess.”

“I’ll do my best.” As the Crystal Exarch turns his back, Elidibus’s eyes go narrow and intent on him. His dark stare is cut off a few seconds later by the closing door. Fading footsteps signal the Exarch’s retreat, and at Elidibus’s sigh the illusion wavers and begins to fade. Slowly he moves to stand beside the bed, hovering for an indecisive moment. Pain and warmth steal over his face, and he carefully settles back onto the bed, shimmying close to Hiroshi, throwing an arm across to hold him close. His tense frame relaxes, bit by bit, and sleep overcomes him once more.


	2. Chapter 2

This time, when Hiroshi awakens, he does not look about in dizzy confusion and surrender immediately to sleep once more. Though he groans in plain discomfort and glances about blearily, he fights sleep’s seductive pull, clenches and spasms punctuating his stretch routine. The motion disturbs Elidibus, tearing fragile sleep to shreds.

“You’re awake.”

Hiroshi huffs a mirthless laugh. “More or less. Sorry to disturb you.”

Elidibus shows no sign of perturbation. “It is no doubt time I was on my way.” He waits a beat, eyes flicking over Hiroshi. The Warrior of Darkness displays no sign of artifice; his brow twists in plain displeasure and uncertainty, and he bites his lip. But he does not speak. “What,  _ now _ you will release me?”

A sigh teases the short ends of Elidibus’s hair. “I can hardly believe I kept you here. And after you did me the kindness of seeing me safely home and abed. Sorry,” he adds, rubbing his temples. “Twelve, my head is still spinning.”

But Elidibus chuckles, turning upon his side to face Hiroshi instead of raising himself out of the bed. “Hardly surprising. In truth, it is no mean feat that you have managed to gain your current level of coherency. I would have expected you to sleep for hours yet.”

“I just might,” comes the grumbled reply. Elidibus chuckles.

“If you must, then do. But we ought to speak, and before much longer.” His expression grows somber. “You told me something most interesting last night, something important enough that I deemed it worth remaining to discuss further.”

Hiroshi shoots him a curious glance. “I’d wondered why you were still here. Figured you’d be long gone when I woke up.” When Elidibus gives no response, he prods, “So? What was so interesting?”

For a moment Elidibus hesitates, choosing his words with care. “You indicated,” he says at last, “that you and Ardbert were fragments of what was once the same soul.”

Hiroshi’s faded gaze sharpens, inquisitive. “That’s right.” He eyes Elidibus, who seems ill inclined to elaborate. “Someone you used to know?” he adds at length.

“You could say that, yes.”

Hiroshi shifts, maneuvering an elbow beneath his head to raise himself up. “Twelve, Elidibus, I’m  _ dying _ to know more.” He chuckles. “I mean that, I do. I fought my way through a ravening horde of Ondo for scraps of knowledge. And here you are with the motherlode.”

“Was it not you,” Elidibus ripostes, eyes flashing with sudden ire, “who pointed out it is bad luck to speak ill of the dead?”

This silences Hiroshi; his gaze defocuses, turns inward. He does not speak. Eventually Elidibus sighs.

“There are many reasons I choose to withhold what I know. However, the knowledge of who you once were answers a number of questions surrounding this mess of a situation even as it raises others.”

Hiroshi stares, uncertain gaze searching Elidibus’s face, trying to puzzle out his meaning. Eventually he groans, falling onto his back and covering his face with one forearm.

“Seven hells, I’m not nearly coherent enough to follow your riddles. What is that supposed to mean? Are you talking about Emet-Selch, or Ardbert or, or, I dunno? Whoever I used to be?”

Elidibus studies him, a long, lingering gaze which Hiroshi cannot see. Eventually he sighs and sits up. “Allow me to help you clear your head.” He makes his way to the room’s table, locating a pitcher, pouring water into a cup. For a moment he lingers over it, hands moving in meaningless gestures, then he returns to the bed. “Here. Drink this.”

With his assistance Hiroshi props himself against the headboard. He takes the water in his hands, frowning down at the clear liquid for a moment. His eyes flick to Elidibus’s for a moment, but he does not voice the question that gleams in them. With a discreet sniff at the water he takes a cautious sip. Finding nothing awry with it, he takes a deeper draught.

As Hiroshi occupies himself with hydration, Elidibus lets careful magic spool from his hand. It washes over Hiroshi, subtle, delicate—worming its way in, finding tiny toxic molecules and denaturing them, promoting healing and blood flow. By the time the water is gone Hiroshi’s state is noticeably improved; he sighs in plain relief and looks narrow-eyed at the cup’s bottom.

“What’s in this?”

Elidibus cannot hold back a smile. “Nothing unusual. Are you feeling better?”

“Markedly so.” Blue eyes catch blue, lingering for a moment. “Thanks.”

Elidibus settles to recline against the headboard as well, his gaze going distant. Whatever he sees catches his attention; he is silent for several seconds. “I am in a difficult position,” he finally admits. “Which I am sure you have divined. As emissary, I have taken upon myself the duty of maintaining the balance. But with so many of my black-robed brethren out of commission—to include both of the other Unsundered, most saliently—I have to pick up far more slack than was ever intended for me. Yet even this is not the extent of my current difficulty.”

Hiroshi’s eyes lower to the mattress, guilt plain in the action. Elidibus waits. Eventually that gaze returns to his face, and he goes on.

“As I told you, I enact the will of the Convocation. Yet not only is it difficult to do while also working toward the Rejoining, but atop it all I find myself infernally short of Convocation incumbents to express the Convocation’s will.” He sighs, the sound rattling up from somewhere deep. “And now…” His eyes flick up to Hiroshi’s, trace over the pinched brow. He sighs again. “The situation has only grown more complicated.”

“Is that the deal with Ardbert being my soul, then?”

“In essence, yes.” Elidibus scowls. “Would that I could simply  _ ask _ what I need to know. Alas, that would entirely negate the purpose.”

“What do you mean?”

Elidibus draws a slow breath. “If I were to ask, the question would lead you to the answer I need. It must be proffered without any prompting whatsoever.” Hiroshi’s frown deepens. “You begin to understand my difficulty, I think.”

“‘Understand’ might be putting it a bit strongly,” Hiroshi mutters, his tone sour. “So you need some kind of information—but how am I to know  _ what, _ if you will not give me even the first hint?”

Amusement glimmers in the depths of Elidibus’s eyes. “I daresay that if you have the information in question—or rather, the requisite  _ memory _ —you will realize it sooner or later.” He hesitates before going on. “I suppose it is not too much for me to indicate that it is only because of your relatively powerful Echo that there is any possibility you might have access to this memory.”

“You’re doing little to convince me not to simply start guessing.”

Elidibus laughs at that, the sound abrupt. “That will not avail you, I fear. I certainly will give you no indication if I believe you have stumbled upon the correct information by anything other than remembrance and design.”

"So let me see if I've got this straight. You need to know if I know—sorry,  _ remember _ —something particular. But you can't tell me what, or give me any hints or lead me at all, and if I  _ do _ know it you probably can't even confirm it's what you're looking for. That about the length and breadth of it?"

A peevish look crosses Elidibus's face, a thwarted contradictory impulse. "A crude and clumsy way to put it, but you are essentially correct."

For a moment Hiroshi just shakes his head. "Well. Can't say I recall  _ anything _ of previous lives, in case that narrows it down. Not beyond that star shower vision, at any rate, and I didn't realize its significance until you basically told us." He sighs, heavy. "If going through the Final Days at Emet-Selch's insistence didn't stir anything, I'm not sure what would. We've been trying since to put the pieces together, but… so precious little remains."

Interest sparks in Elidibus's gaze. "Have you? I had rather thought you would spend your time trying to thwart my plans."

Hiroshi laughs, bitter. "And how are we to manage such a thing when we know next to nothing about you?" He fixes his eyes on Elidibus, pain and sorrow echoing in their depths. "What little we have found, though, makes me worry for you."

Elidibus's eyes narrow, calculation whirling behind them. "And now you will leave  _ me _ wondering what you might know, or if indeed you truly know anything at all."

"I know that you were sacrificed to form Zodiark's heart. And while that raises more questions than it answers, it does, I think, tell me about who you were. Twelve," he blurts out, the pain in his gaze sharpening, “how does that even work? How much of  _ you _ is truly left?”

Elidibus's expression goes hard, closed off. "Spare me your pity."

But Hiroshi does not back down, his gaze level. “And what if it’s not pity? What if it’s genuine care? Empathy? You won’t convince me you aren’t horribly alone, so don’t bother to try.” He moves, shifting to sit upright, still facing Elidibus.

“And you are unlikely to convince me you genuinely care.”

Hiroshi wilts at that, slumping, eyes going dull. “Truly? I thought maybe, after last night…” He sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “Guess there aren’t enough ‘sorry’s’ in the universe, really.”

For a moment there is silence. Elidibus scowls at his feet in bad temper. Finally he sighs and moves to sit up as well. “I do not doubt that you  _ regret. _ Certainly if you convinced me of anything last night, it was that you bear little resemblance to the heartless, unshakable killer you appear to be. However,  _ regret _ signals merely that you wish it had not come to pass. It gives me no assurance that you will do differently the next time you come into conflict with an Ascian.”

“Heh.” Hiroshi’s shoulders shake for a moment beyond his hard chuckle. “You think so? That if I found myself, I dunno, back staring down Nabriales trapped in the auracite all of a sudden I wouldn’t change a thing, just feel extra sad about it?”

_ “Would _ you?”

Those blue orbs rise, piercing, lancing through Elidibus with sudden intensity. “I wouldn’t hesitate to. I lost a friend, too; my blessing was drained, so I had to use Tupsimati, and it wasn’t enough. She gave her life to end his.” He shakes his head, blinking fast. “Neither of them had to die. Surely Nabriales wouldn’t have been foolish enough to return if I had let him escape from the auracite. Tell me he wouldn’t.” A note of pleading worms its way into his voice.

Elidibus does not reply immediately. “I suppose the matter will become plain soon enough. Unless you believe we might somehow not come into conflict?”

“Twelve, I’ve been praying nightly for another path. I can’t do this any more. I just  _ can’t. _ If I hadn’t been dying myself I wouldn’t have been able to fight Emet-Selch. It was desperation, pure and simple, the only thing driving me forward. If I stopped, if I looked back, if I so much as  _ hesitated, _ I’d be lost.” He sighs, rubs at his face. “I can’t go through it again, Elidibus. Emet-Selch once said something about how a resilient soul might be able to walk a path of lesser tragedy. Please, tell me you have some idea of how we might coexist.”

This time Elidibus’s silence is thoughtful. “Considering your soul, I wonder…” His expression gentles, pain touching it at the edges. He raises a hand, slow, the movement almost trancelike, to brush the Warrior of Darkness’s shoulder, to slide behind his neck, along the top of his shoulders. Hiroshi drops his hands at the touch, turning to Elidibus, flinging himself against him. Elidibus starts at the assault, grunting as Hiroshi’s weight settles against him. He finds himself embraced with desperate strength, and as Hiroshi’s face lodges in his shoulder, something between pain and wonder steals across his face.

For a long moment they are silent. Elidibus struggles within, signs of it writ upon his expression as some internal debate takes place. It is ended by a deep sigh.

“In the end, I do not believe you can bring yourself to accept the Rejoining. Any path of cooperation we might walk would be at best temporary.”

“Then why not walk it as long as we can? If we  _ have _ some common goal, why not spend what time we can pursuing it? If we can at least postpone the inevitable…”

Sorrow steals across Elidibus’s face. “Such a doomed alliance could never be fully trusted. Both sides would by necessity spend the time maneuvering to have a favorable position come the alliance’s end. It would be self-defeating; the moment our ultimate goal is achieved we would turn on one another—if not before.”

Against his chest, Hiroshi shakes his head, vehement denial. “I won’t hurt you. I’ve decided that much. I’ll find some other way to stop you if I must.”

“You cannot be serious.”

Hiroshi’s head rises, ire and something else burning in his eyes. He does not speak, but instead grips harder upon Elidibus’s torso. He lunges upward, forward, and before Elidibus can do more than blink his lips seal over the Ascian’s.

The change wrought is immediate. The strength of Elidibus’s frame falters, eyes, mouth blown wide in shock and disbelief. Though not intended as an invitation, Hiroshi takes it as such nonetheless, a needy tongue prising that mouth wider, drawing forth a throaty groan as Elidibus slumps, limply overwhelmed by the sudden glut of sensation. Of genuine emotion, pressed as heedlessly as lips.

Hiroshi, too, moans, climbing onto Elidibus’s lap to straddle him, a fumbling desperate impetus toward closeness. They cry out as one; Hiroshi’s head drops, the seal of their lips breaking to allow them to pant for air. One hand glides up, sliding over Elidibus’s cheek, supporting his head and tipping it once more toward his. Elidibus’s chest hitches against his own as he bends, deliberate this time, eyes blazing at the flush that blooms on the Ascian’s face, at the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips. He gives no objection, and that is enough.

This kiss is slow, languorous; Hiroshi coaxes at Elidibus, teasing and inviting by turns. The Ascian’s hands have found grips about the thighs straddling him; they clench with each gentle nip, each catch and suck upon his lips. His hips begin to move, as well, twitchy upward rolls timed with Hiroshi’s ministrations. Hiroshi is affected in turn; he groans, deepening the kiss even as he grinds down upon Elidibus, a faint tremor betraying the effort it takes to control his motions. But the Ascian’s surrender is his reward, well-earned; Elidibus accedes to the slower rhythm, limp and straining upward by turns. When they finally part, they gasp and pant as though winded.

"I don't want you to leave," Hiroshi confesses, his voice hoarse. "I want to convince you that I'm speaking the truth. That I've changed. That I'm willing to do a lot if it might lead to peace."

For several seconds Elidibus stares at him. The faint glaze to his eyes and the hot flush upon his face cast a degree of doubt upon his degree of comprehension, seeming to give Hiroshi pause. For a moment the Warrior of Darkness studies him in return, hopeful, fearful. Elidibus draws a deep, shuddering breath but does not speak.

Slowly, Hiroshi sits back, his hand dropping to rest on Elidibus's chest, pressing lightly over his heart. His face twists with emotion, and he draws a deep breath. Slowly, Elidibus reaches for the hand, strong fingers encircling its wrist. Gently he lifts it upward, to his face. His lips press, soft and careful, to the palm, laying a reverent kiss there, then another, slowly working toward the wrist. His other hand tugs at Hiroshi’s hip until he gives in, sliding close once more, his arm slipping around behind Elidibus. His lips again seek out the Ascian’s, hot and needy. When Elidibus’s arm slides up his back to tangle in his hair he groans, delving deeper with furious hunger, his tongue stroking over Elidibus’s again and again until he is forced to pull back, to catch his breath.

For a moment the only sound is their panting breaths, Hiroshi’s fingers once more cradling Elidibus’s cheek. Once he recovers, he raises his head to study the Ascian. He still breathes heavily, visibly more affected than Hiroshi. He does not speak, but his eyes burn into Hiroshi with startling intensity. Hiroshi’s thumb comes up to brush lightly over Elidibus’s lips.

"I never had the chance to hold Ardbert close. I missed my opportunity with Emet-Selch. I'm not like to let you slip away from me." Another kiss sears Elidibus's lips, scorching with need. "I'm through regretting what I didn't do. If I must regret, let it be over something I got to have."

Elidibus’s breath still comes fast, his hands clenching and unclenching in an unsteady rhythm. He gazes up with glazed eyes but says nothing. Concern twists Hiroshi's face.

"I-if you'd rather not, then that's fine, of course. I won't push you." A gentle hand tips Elidibus's face to his, but the Ascian turns his head, lips pressing into his palm. Hiroshi gasps from the sudden intimate contact, and again when Elidibus snags his thumb to suck it into his mouth. The suction sends his head falling back for a second, then he grinds down upon the Ascian's groin once more, in time with the pulls on his thumb.

He sighs when Elidibus releases him, but the Ascian seems to have found some buried resolve. Strong hands tug at his clothing, catching the bottom of the tunic and working it up. He obliges him, shimmying loose of the garment—and they both grunt at the friction wrought by the motion—and raising his arms to aid Elidibus in divesting him of it. When Elidibus releases the cloth, his hands trail back down in deliberate, drawn-out caresses that make Hiroshi's breath catch and shorten. Blunt nails draw faint lines down his skin, coming to rest on the arches of his hips.

Now Hiroshi struggles with Elidibus's garment; pinned as it is between them, he snarls in frustration as he rises off the Ascian to pull it up. Together they manage to rid themselves of the last of their clothing, motions jerky and awkward with lust. Elidibus also takes the opportunity to slip lower, lying flat on the bed. When Hiroshi settles once more atop him, he rests lower, on the Ascian’s thighs, hands framing Elidibus’s hips, hesitating. Elidibus groans as those hands hover just beyond his groin, flexing upward as though he might somehow thrust his way into that touch and making Hiroshi grin.

“Is this good?”

Elidibus’s response is wordless, demanding hands seizing tight to pull Hiroshi closer. He laughs as he tips, off-balance, one arm bracing beside Elidibus’s head so he does not fall entirely atop him. Slowly he slides up, smirk turning to a needy gape as his cock slides over Elidibus’s. His other arm, the one not holding his weight, drives down between their bodies to catch and cup Elidibus’s length, to encircle them both and hold them tight together.

They groan simultaneously as his hand clenches, and again at the first movement of that wrist, stroking them both at once. Elidibus’s hands are nigh-frenzied, dancing over Hiroshi’s back as though his desperation will hasten the pleasure. Hiroshi’s teeth grit as Elidibus bucks into his hand, and he swipes his thumb to gather the precum that leaks from them both. He finds Elidibus dripping, bites his lip as he smears the slippery liquid along both of their lengths. The next stroke, part slick and part heated friction, sends Elidibus, beneath him, into a paroxysm.

“Oh!”

Grinning, Hiroshi bends to capture the sound with his mouth, to snatch Elidibus’s breath. The Ascian writhes beneath him, uncoordinated motions actually hindering Hiroshi’s efforts. In response he bears his weight down on the Ascian, pressing him harder into the bed, ravishing his mouth. Elidibus groans and falls limp again, succumbing to Hiroshi’s insistence, his demands. Now he builds a rhythm, long firm strokes working them both, pressing into his own hand even as he moves, coaxing Elidibus into the motion as well.

Elidibus is twitchy, uncoordinated. Visibly overwhelmed. Hiroshi gentles his motions each time the Ascian seems in danger of losing control, and gradually his coordination improves. If he smirks each time Elidibus falls limp or his head lolls, it is a small thing, gentled by care and consideration as he works upon the Ascian, building him up to tolerate more touch, more pleasure. A long, slow kiss fixates Elidibus’s attention, allowing him to hasten the motion of his hand and wrist from languid to decisive; he groans at the building pleasure, biting playfully at Elidibus’s lips before releasing his mouth.

One of Elidibus’s hands finally finds and keeps a hold upon Hiroshi, strong fingers clenching on the thick muscle of his buttock. Hiroshi’s head falls at the sensation, his face pressing into the crook of Elidibus’s shoulder, though he does not stop his rhythm. He groans, flexing into both Elidibus’s and his own touch, stubble rasping over the Ascian’s collarbone and the softer skin of his throat with each motion. His mouth yet seeks, rooting against Elidibus’s skin in clumsy, open-mouthed kisses. Elidibus responds with encouraging sounds and a grip upon the back of his head, drawing him to a spot that makes him tense and cry out when Hiroshi lavishes his attention on it. For a time they remain so, Elidibus trembling in need as Hiroshi plays upon him skillfully; finally he relents, drawing back to see his handiwork.

Elidibus lies in disarray, short hair standing up in all directions, damp with sweat. Here and there it sticks to his brow, and Hiroshi runs a gentle hand over the skin to free it. Elidibus’s eyes focus at the motion, trying to watch before turning instead to Hiroshi’s face. The Ascian’s face is flushed, not with embarrassment but need, the color creeping down his chest as well. His lips are wet and red, parted to facilitate his gasps, and with a smile Hiroshi bends to claim them once more. His strokes speed up as he loses himself in the taste, the  _ feel _ of Elidibus. When he draws back he once again admires the Ascian beneath him.

Something glimmers in those stolen blue eyes, a spark of planning, perhaps even mischief. Hiroshi’s eyes narrow at the hint of smile that curves his lips. Abruptly he gasps, eyes widening at what seems to be nothing. Yet clearly there is  _ something, _ for his eyes lock upon Elidibus’s own with searing intensity, and he trembles, lips parting.

“What is this?”

Through the haze of pleasure Elidibus manages a smile, and one hand rises to cup Hiroshi’s cheek.

«Let me give you this.»

Hiroshi’s eyes flutter shut as he presses into the touch for a sweet second, ensnared by that polyphonic voice. When he reopens them, their return hails a redoubling of his efforts. No longer coaxing, he moves fast and hard, his hand doing little more than holding their cocks tightly together as he thrusts, sliding against Elidibus, grinding down upon him. There is no build and release, now; he pushes the Ascian steadily toward pleasure’s precipice, seeming intent on seeing him tipped over it. Together they tense and groan and press, clinging and holding, mouths blindly seeking skin. Through panting breaths, Hiroshi once again seeks that sensitive spot upon the side of Elidibus’s neck, first kissing and then biting at it.

«-------!»

Beneath Hiroshi, Elidibus goes rigid, face twisting in a rictus of pleasure as orgasm overtakes him, as his release seizes and wrings him in iron jaws. A strangled cry, still polyphonic, breaks free, and heat paints his stomach. Above him, Hiroshi smirks, blatantly reveling in the Ascian’s helpless capitulation.

The triumphant grin on his lips is slapped away an instant later by blank shock. His lips part, eyes rolling back into his head as he peaks abruptly. Jerking and shuddering, he tips downward, landing senseless atop Elidibus, hips spasming in helpless ecstasy. A breath is knocked from Elidibus at the impact and a further cry at the overstimulation, and he clutches Hiroshi’s hips, to still him, to pull him closer, to cling to him in abject need.

Slowly they come down, still touching, needy, craving closeness. Hiroshi shifts to fall beside Elidibus, no longer trapping him, and looks down in bemusement at the mess they have made of their stomachs. Elidibus notices his gaze and chuckles, sliding fingertips through their mingled seed. The touch makes Hiroshi’s eyes darken as he draws a shuddering breath. His gaze rises to Elidibus, and it is plain that if he were not so freshly spent he would do a lot more than simply  _ look. _

Elidibus’s smile turns crooked, warm. Aether flows, and a cloth appears in his hand, damp and steaming lightly. Gently, he wipes the rag over Hiroshi’s skin, cleaning up the evidence of their passion. When he moves to repeat the ministrations on himself, Hiroshi catches his wrist.

“Will you let me?”

Wordlessly Elidibus relinquishes the rag. Hiroshi cleans him with tender caresses, lavishing attention over his form until he is clean. He stares at the rag for a moment, then shrugs and casts it aside. Settling close against Elidibus’s side, throwing an arm over his chest, he releases a deep sigh.

“What was it you said there, just at the end? It felt…”

Elidibus turns to Hiroshi in expectant silence, but the Warrior of Darkness seems to have lost his capacity for words. Finally Elidibus relents.

«-------...»

Hiroshi straightens at the sound. “That. What does it mean?” His face screws up. “Why does it feel…” He blinks, slowly dispelling a bright sheen of threatening tears.

“Do not trouble yourself about it. Perhaps one day it will become clear.” He reaches back to Hiroshi, his hand rubbing a slow circle into his back. By degrees, Hiroshi relaxes against him, letting the subject go in favor of the peace of closeness, of skin and breath upon skin. Gradually his breathing evens out, slowing into sleep. Elidibus does not stop his caresses until long after Hiroshi has fallen asleep. Whatever thoughts occupy him as he watches the Warrior of Darkness slumber are kept hidden, and once Hiroshi begins to snore he carefully slips from beneath that clinging arm to gather up his things. He dresses with unhurried economy of motion, donning his armor and returning his axe to its place upon his back.

Once he has all that he brought with him, he returns to the bed’s side, hesitating for a long moment. Slowly he bends down to place a feather-light kiss upon Hiroshi’s brow. Straightening, he lingers a moment longer. Power swells between his fingers, and a moment later he holds a feather—small, pale, with a faint fiery shimmer. He sets it upon the bed where he had lain, and as he turns away a void opens up, whisking him to some distant destination.

When Hiroshi awakens, he is once again alone. A glance at the spot where Elidibus had been screws his face up with pain, and for a time he clutches his pillow close to his face and shudders. Finally he heaves a sigh, forcing open red-rimmed eyes as he sits up. His gaze falls upon the feather, surprise and sudden hope lifting his brows, softening the lines about his eyes and mouth. With reverent care, he reaches down to grasp it by the stem, turning it this way and that and watching flame dance over its stiff fibers.

Smiling now, he stands, his eyes still lingering on the feather as he sets it carefully atop the armoire next to the bed. He admires it for several more breaths before finally tearing his eyes from it to begin gathering up his clothing, a renewed bounce in his step.


End file.
